We Woke Up Married
by CrazyGirl47
Summary: DracoHermione challenge response. AU sixth and seventh year. Exactly what the title says, but I'm putting as many new spins on the old cliche as possible. Primarily humor.
1. A Reason to Celebrate

_**We Woke Up Married**_

_Disclaimer:_ I don't own Harry Potter or anything else I don't own.

_Author's Notes:_ I know this has been done before, but I couldn't resist doing it for myself, and I'm hoping that I'll be able to avoid too many clichés. I've been working on this story for awhile, and I think it's decent enough to post... anyway, I obviously haven't been able to read the sixth and seventh books, as it's currently 2004 and _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ just came out last June 21st. So I've made up my own version of what happened Harry's sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts, and the story begins at the end of Harry's seventh year. Most of the things I've changed or added are explained in the story, so I don't really feel an author's note about them is necessary—but if anyone is confused about what I'm talking about, just mention it in a review or e-mail and I'll put in a note to explain.

I'd like to point out that I am American, not British, and I've never been to England; the closest I've gotten is a few places in Ontario, Canada. So I'm sorry if I screw up. I realize that I'm probably saying words they don't say in England and using things that don't exist over there—when I do, try to overlook it.

The updating for this story will probably move somewhat slowly, but the chapters are long—for me, anyway; most of them are about four thousand words. I'm really only posting this because of how slow my other fics are moving recently, but it is still a decent story in my opinion.

The rating is R for a lot of sensuality, and some swearing and violence, but not much.

_Summary: _At the end of seventh year, Voldemort was defeated by Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy, who turned against the Death Eaters. After a Ministry of Magic party thrown in their honor (complete with a long night of drinking), Draco and Hermione wake up the next day in the same bed with the horrible realization that they've had sex and are married in the wizarding way—which is hard to dissolve.

This was based off a challenge I got at the Draco/Hermione community on yahoo, issued by Piaa. The challenge must include the following lines:

"Ginny! You're supposed to be sweet and pure!"

"What do you mean only one bedroom and one bed?"

"Cover her ears!"

"Snape totally freaked when he found out. It was hilarious!"

"Oh, you're so sleeping on the couch tonight, mister!"

"Neville! You're a dead man! That's my sister!"

Well, please review, guys. The faster I get reviews, the faster I tend to update.

_**We Woke Up Married**_

**Chapter One**

_A Reason to Celebrate_

Hermione Granger smiled as she sipped her glass of champagne, staring out at the crowd of people dancing or talking in the enormous ballroom. As her eyes slid over her friends and acquaintances, however, her smile slipped as she automatically took note of who wasn't there.

It was the end of her seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the day after she'd taken her N.E.W.T. exams. Lord Voldemort had finally been vanquished two weeks before, and the Ministry of Magic was holding a fantastic celebration in honor of Hermione and the others who had been Voldemort's downfall. She knew she should feel pleased; they had won the war at last, and had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of their time, if not of all time. And yet...

"Sirius would have loved to be here," said a wistful voice behind her. She turned; there he was, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Man Who Triumphed Over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Hermione gave him a weak smile. "Yes, he would, Harry," she said softly. She looked up into his sorrowful green eyes and stepped forward, hugging him tightly, embracing the warm, strong, lightly muscled body of her friend. Harry held her close, burying his head in her hair.

"Listen, 'Mione," he said softly. "I... I was thinking. I can leave the Dursleys now, you know. I'm going to get a place of my own as soon as possible. And... well... Maybe you—and Ron, perhaps Ginny—should come live with me when school's out. Hold on to the good old days, you know?"

"That sounds lovely, Harry," she said. She pulled back, gently but firmly, though she kept her hands resting casually on his waist, Harry doing the same. "Have you asked Ron yet?"

Hermione looked up to meet his eyes, and tried not to wince. There was concern there, and after all Harry had been through, was still going through, the last thing she wanted was to give him another thing to worry about.

"I'll ask him soon," Harry said quietly. "School's not officially over for awhile." His eyes bored into hers, as though trying to read her like he would a book with very small print. "Are you okay, 'Mione?"

She smiled again, feeling tears in her eyes, but she held them back. "I'm fine, Harry. Are you?"

He sighed, releasing her waist, having realized he wasn't going to get her to open up to him very much at the moment. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm going to go talk to Ron; do you want to come?"

She shook her head. "You go."

She watched him melt reluctantly into the crowd. It had been two years since he'd lost his godfather, but she knew it still hurt him, would probably always hurt. It seemed that Harry couldn't spend two minutes without acquiring new demons—external and internal—to fight; not only was he still mourning his parents and Sirius, but he wasn't as happy as one would have thought over Voldemort's death. Harry had been the one to ultimately kill Voldemort, though Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Draco Malfoy had helped, and killing someone—no matter how evil that someone is—is never a pleasant experience.

She couldn't help shaking her head slightly at her thoughts; it still sounded strange to say "Draco Malfoy" in the same sentence as the rest of them (at least, without the word "hate" in there somewhere). They had all labeled Draco as a Death Eater, as one who would attempt to destroy them all; not one of them had thought he would follow in Severus Snape's footsteps and betray Lord Voldemort. He had turned against the Death Eaters in their sixth year (primarily because Voldemort had murdered his father as punishment for failing to retrieve the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries) and joined the Order of the Phoenix. It was he who had broken the strongest of Voldemort's shields in the final battle; Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had never delved deep enough into the Dark Arts to know how to undo the powerful, ancient magical barrier.

Draco and Harry were on their way to becoming friends, though it was still a tentative thing, even after over a year of working on the same side, and Draco and Ron were about the same. Surprisingly, Draco had truly hit it off with Ginny—probably because he hadn't insulted and provoked her as much as the rest of them, and she hadn't been around him as much—but Draco and Hermione hadn't even attempted friendship. He had insulted her, her looks, her parents, and her friends. He had insulted Gryffindor, Dumbledore, and McGonagall. In short, he had insulted just about everything she cared about and everyone she loved and admired, and the years of abuse were hard for her to forget. She was a very determined person, which also meant she had a tendency to hold a grudge, and her vast intellect gave her an even larger tendency not to forget past insults. She and Draco, when forced to socialize because of the friendships forming between Draco and Harry, Ron and Ginny, were rather like a divorced couple who'd ended on extremely bad terms and were only polite to one another for the sake of their children. It wasn't as though Draco hadn't made an effort; Hermione just wasn't ready to forgive him.

A flash of red hair on the dance floor caught her eye, and she smiled as she saw Ginny, her closest and only real female friend, dancing gracefully amongst the other couples. She frowned, however, when she realized Ginny was dancing with Malfoy. The word "Death Eater" flashed through her head; perhaps that was the true reason Hermione couldn't find it in her heart to make amends. Ever since Hermione was eleven years old, Draco Malfoy had brought to mind an image of Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

He brought to mind an image of the people who'd tortured and murdered her parents.

She closed her eyes briefly; thinking about them still hurt. Just a few months ago, during the summer holidays before her seventh year when Hermione had been tucked away in the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, several Death Eaters had invaded her parents' home, demanding to know where Hermione was—because once they had Hermione, they would have Harry. Her parents had been tortured severely, not only by the Cruciatus but by other, bloodier means; Hermione had visited the house after hearing of their deaths and had discovered a living room bathed in blood and gore. They hadn't even been murdered by the Killing Curse; they had bled to death painfully.

That was the real reason Harry had invited her to come live with him; he knew she wasn't going to be able to continue living in her old house. She had plenty of her own money—her parents, both dentists at the head of their field, had left her a small fortune, in addition to their large life insurance policies. Yet she had never lived alone before, and had expressed her trepidations about it to Harry and the others after her parents' death. She certainly wouldn't be going back to live in the house, either. Paying for it to be cleaned and moving all of the furniture and other belongings to storage had been painful enough, and the house had been on the market for quite some time, though no one was interested in buying. Once a potential buyer heard about the grisly slaughter of Mr. and Mrs. Granger, they weren't too keen to live there.

She drained the last of her glass of champagne and turned towards the bar, intent on getting something stronger to drink.

* * *

Draco watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye. He saw her talking to Harry, then he saw the smile on her face as she watched Ginny. He saw the smile evaporate as she caught sight of him.

He sighed inwardly. He had tried, over the past year and a half, to become friends with the four Gryffindors. Ginny, especially, had let him in, and so had Harry and even Ron. But every friendly word to Hermione, every smile and every gesture, was received with a cool, detached reply.

"What are you watching?"

He blinked, coming back to reality and turning his head back to Ginny. Without thinking, he'd been watching Hermione intently, but Ginny, who wasn't very tall, hadn't been able to see through the crowd. "Harry and Hermione. They were talking a second ago."

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny asked with carefully-controlled interest.

Draco grinned. Ginny had confided in him about Harry; he knew she wasn't truly over him. "They were hugging, too," he teased. "Getting a little frisky, maybe, couldn't see from here."

Ginny snorted and whacked Draco on the arm. "Yeah, right. The day they 'get frisky' is the day Snape announces his engagement to McGonagall."

He laughed. "You never know. Slytherin/Gryffindor relationships _have_ improved recently."

Ginny smiled, shaking her head. "A year and a half ago, if someone had told me such a thing would happen, I'd have said they needed to stop listening to Professor Trelawney's predictions. Now look at us."

"I'll never forget the look on everyone's faces when the story came out," Draco said, grinning. "Remember? The five of us walked into the Great Hall together?"

"Hard to believe that was two weeks ago," Ginny said. Two days after the final battle, Dumbledore had thrown a huge feast. Several of the Slytherins—including Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott—had been absent, in addition to Draco, and most of the students had assumed Draco had been killed by the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry like Crabbe, Goyle and Millicent or jailed like Pansy and Theodore; no one knew that he was, in fact, recuperating in the hospital wing. Dumbledore had given a long speech that ended in the words "I give you the defeaters of Voldemort!" and McGonagall had thrown the doors open. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Draco had walked in together, holding hands; Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and the remaining Slytherins had been in total shock, gaping at Draco even as they (well, all but most of the Slytherins) cheered and rushed to congratulate and hug and hoist them onto shoulders. It had been the greatest moment in Draco's life, honored by the other houses and even from some students in his own house; Blaise Zabini, the only guy Draco shared a dorm with who hadn't been a supporter of Voldemort, had been one of two guys who'd lifted Draco above the crowd.

"Two weeks," Draco mused. "It does seem like a lifetime ago."

"Yeah."

The song to which they were dancing ended. Harry appeared at their side. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked.

"I thought you weren't much for dancing," Ginny said, lifting an eyebrow.

"The Ministry threw a party in our honor, Gin. I wanna celebrate," he said with a smile.

"I do too," Draco said, grinning. "I'm hitting the bar."

Ginny shot Draco a happy look as Harry took her hands. Draco winked at her and left. He liked to flirt with her, but he was fairly certain Harry was finally starting to see how cool she was, and Draco was content to leave his relationship with Ginny at friendship.

_Friends, with the Little Weasel, _he thought, shaking his head. Things had definitely changed.

As he reached the bar, he immediately caught sight of Hermione again. She appeared to be in deep discussion with Ron, however, so he kept his distance, ordering a drink. Ron looked pleased about something... but then, he usually did recently. Since the defeat of Voldemort, hundreds of people, both individuals and companies, had been sending the five of them letters and gifts as a sort of thank you, and begging them to endorse all sorts of items in exchange for a large paycheck; it seemed the Weasleys would never be poor again. Ron had been especially happy about this; while Harry, Hermione, and Draco had never needed extra cash, the Weasleys certainly had, and though Ginny had never seemed to care much about money, being poor had always depressed Ron. Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Ginny had become almost as famous as Harry overnight; they were no longer just regarded as Harry's nameless backup, but had been dubbed "the Heroes of the Second War." Now people wanted interviews from them almost as often as from Harry; people wanted autographs, they wanted to make action figures, they wanted to put the five of them on a T-shirt and sign contracts for promotions. They indulged their admirers occasionally—during the previous weekend, and the day before when the N.E.W.T. examinations had drawn to a close, they'd given lots of interviews to magazines and just about anyone but the _Daily Prophet_ (they were still quite pissed off at the _Daily Prophet_, given what they'd done to Harry during and before his fifth year), and they'd agreed to a few public appearances, and they had answered loads of fan mail from people all over the globe. They'd even done a photo shoot together that very morning, making a good deal of cash. Harry was used to it, Hermione was indifferent, Ginny was pleased, Draco was overwhelmed, but Ron... Ron reveled in it.

After Ron left Hermione, waving at Draco as he passed, Draco noticed Hermione's happy look fade once again, and he went over to sit in Ron's empty seat. "Hey," he said.

Hermione gave him a half-hearted smile. She looked beautiful; she had straightened her hair out like she had at the Yule Ball their fourth year and she wore gorgeous purple dress robes and a little makeup to bring out her features. She really was pretty, with clear skin, high cheekbones, large brown eyes, full lips, and a smile that was now even, thanks to the shrinking of her front teeth. She seemed rather unhappy at the moment, however. "Hi, Draco," she said listlessly. She picked up a glass of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, which startled him a little; he hadn't figured her for much of a drinker beyond the occasional butterbeer or glass of wine.

"So... What were you and Ron talking about?" he asked, trying to make small talk.

"Oh, Harry's thinking about getting a place, and he wants me and Ron to move in with him," she responded vaguely.

"That's nice," Draco said. He felt a little envious; though he truly liked the idea of living on his own, he wished he were close enough to Harry, Ron, and Hermione to be invited as well. "Are you going to?"

"Probably," Hermione replied, sighing. "I don't have a place to live anymore, really."

"Oh," he said uncomfortably, instantly feeling sorry for her as he remembered hearing about her parents. "Was your house, um, destroyed?"

"No," she said, an edge to her voice. "I just don't like the memories of it being covered in blood, you know?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said softly. He thought about taking her hand, but held back. He wasn't sure how she would react to such a gesture.

"Thanks," she said, but she fairly snarled the words.

He blinked, angry and a little hurt. He knew she was probably drunk—there were several empty shot glasses in front of her—but he was tired of her hating him, when he'd done so much to make amends. "What is it with you?" he snapped. "I'm sorry your parents are dead, but my father is too—"

"Your father was a murderer," she said hotly. "If he had been alive at the time, your father probably would have helped kill mine! He was probably there the day Harry's parents were slaughtered by Voldemort!"

"There's nothing I can do about that!" Draco almost shouted. "What do you want me to say? Huh? Hating me isn't going to bring your mum and dad back! I have nothing to do with it!"

Hermione stared at him, then turned away, taking a large gulp of her whisky. "I'm sorry, Draco," she whispered. "I know... I know nothing will bring them back..."

Draco felt his anger vanish, and impulsively he stood up and wrapped his arms around her, relieved when she hugged him back. "It's okay, Hermione," he whispered, stroking her hair as she rested her chin on his shoulder.

"No, it isn't," she said softly.

"It will be," he told her firmly. "It will be."

After a while, Draco released her, almost reluctant to do so. "Want another drink?" he asked her. She nodded, her eyes still misty. Draco called over the bartender, and got them both fresh drinks. "On me," he said firmly. She mumbled her thanks. Deciding it would be best to get her mind off things, he asked her to tell him about her adventures with Harry and Ron; he had only heard most of them from his father's viewpoint, and hadn't heard about several of them at all. She launched into the story of the Sorcerer's Stone, then went into Harry and Ron and Ginny's ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets and was soon cracking up as she told him about the bit with Sirius Black; Draco laughed his head off at the part where she and Harry and Ron attacked Snape in the Shrieking Shack. As they drank away their sorrows together, the night wore on.


	2. Rude Awakening

**Chapter Two**

_Rude Awakening_

Hermione awoke slowly, her head pounding uncomfortably, her throat parched, sunlight searing her eyes. She squinted her eyes shut and frowned, disoriented, wondering why she hadn't shut the hangings around her bed like she usually did. She rolled over, trying to get away from the bright light...

And found herself staring at the sleeping face of Draco Malfoy.

Her eyes widened in disbelief and confusion. What, exactly, was he doing in her bed?

Oh, god, what _was_ he doing in her bed? She hurriedly sat up; Draco's arm, which had been wrapped around her, slid across her chest before falling back to the bed. In horror, she realized not only was she completely nude, but Draco was also. She stared at him, some dim corner of her brain noting the fact that he was rather muscular. A white sheet covered him from the chest down, and it took a second for her shocked brain to register that she didn't have white sheets; her Hogwarts bedding was all done in Gryffindor red.

She looked up sharply; she was in a hotel room, no doubt about it. She was on a large, king-size bed; the only other furniture were a long, low chest of drawers with a large mirror attached and a television perched on top, a little writing desk and chair in one corner with a pad of paper and an ice bucket on it, and a small round table with four chairs. Clothes were strewn around the room, thrown about haphazardly; several chairs and a lamp were knocked over and her bra was hanging on top of the television. A few empty alcohol bottles were on the table and a bottle of red wine sat in the ice bucket. Dully she realized that not only did the room smell sort of funky, she was sore in places she damned well shouldn't be sore, and noticing that made her notice that parts of her were sort of sticky and the sheets beneath her were a bit damp.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

* * *

Draco's eyes flew open at the sound of an ear-splitting, terrified scream. He rolled over, reaching for his wand automatically, and promptly fell off the bed, landing on soft blue carpeting.

Shocked, confused, he stood up, wondering where he was. He turned around, trying to ignore the pain in his head and the hangover and sleepiness that made his limbs feel like lead as he faced the bed—

—and saw Hermione Granger, sitting naked in the middle of the mattress.

Horror washed over him as she stared back at him. His eyes darted around the room, thoughts full of dread flashing through his now wide-awake brain. Clothes thrown everywhere. Hotel stationary. Liquor bottles. He'd screwed Granger. Oh god, he'd screwed Granger. HE'D SCREWED GRANGER!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" he screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Hermione agreed.

"Oh, shit," he moaned. "No. No, oh _god_ no! How the hell did this happen?"

"I don't know! I'm sure it's all _your_ fault!" she shrieked.

"MY fault? How do you figure?"

"I... I... it just is!" She suddenly seemed to remember she was naked, and dived for the sheet, pulling it up to her chest. Draco hurriedly grabbed a pillow, holding it over himself.

He gulped, breathing heavily. "I... how... where are we?"

"We're in a hotel room, you idiot! You got me drunk and brought me to a _hotel_ _room!"_

"I can see that, damn it! Where are we, though? What city? How do we get to Hogwarts?"

"Oh, god, Hogwarts! They must be worried sick!"

Draco's heart stopped at the thought of Harry, Ron, and Ginny. They would kill him! "How... where... we must still be in London, we couldn't have gone far, we'll just ask someone if we can borrow Floo powder and—"

"We're in a Muggle hotel!" Hermione shouted, pointing at the large black box on top of the dresser. Draco stared at it blankly.

"What on earth is that? How do you know we're in a Muggle hotel?" Draco demanded.

"It's a television, moron! It's a Muggle television."

"You're right, that's a fellytone—" Draco said, catching sight of one on the desk.

"Telephone," Hermione corrected automatically.

"I don't care what it's called!" Draco roared. "It's a Muggle piece of junk in a Muggle hotel room! What am I doing in a _Muggle hotel room_ with _you_?"

"What _are_ you doing in a Muggle hotel room with me?" she shouted. "What? Why? WHY!!!"

Draco started to yell at her, but stopped and took a deep breath. "We have to stop freaking out. We... we need to be calm, and rationalize the situation. Yeah. That's what we need to do. We need to get dressed, get to Diagon Alley, and get back to school, hopefully before anyone realizes we're missing. We can Floo to Hogwarts from the Alley—"

"No, we can't," Hermione said, calming slightly, her breathing now only slightly erratic.

"Why not?" he asked. "Can... can we not get to Diagon Alley from the Muggle world?"

"We can get there, but you can't Floo into Hogwarts, much like you can't Apparate into there. If you could use Floo, they wouldn't bother with the train or the carriages or anything. You have to be given a certain sort of consent, it's complicated... but you can't get in whenever you want, you have to be allowed in. Unless permission is given by the headmaster or certain others, the Hogwarts fires are all for communication only or to travel within the school."

"How do you know?"

"I read it in _Hogwarts: A History_," she said, rolling her eyes. She stood up, shakily, and grabbed her bra off the television, wrapping the sheet around her like she would a bath towel. "I... I need a shower," she said, looking rather green. "I just... we... I need a shower," she repeated.

She headed for one of the two doors in the room, which Draco presumed to be the bathroom, as the other door had more intricate type of doorknob and some sort of chain at the top that he presumed to be a flimsy Muggle lock. As Hermione moved past him, Draco turned away accordingly, trying to keep as much of himself from her eyes as he could.

She found her wand next to the wine and ice bucket, still in its cleverly designed arm cuff, which could be hidden by sleeves and brought the wand to her hand with a flick of her wrist. She strapped the cuff back to her forearm, then grabbed the bottle of wine as an afterthought before bending over to pick up her clothes. As she straightened up and started heading back towards the bathroom, Draco caught sight of a mark on her shoulder.

"Stop!" he said loudly, rushing forward.

"What?" she asked, startled, turning to face him.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her back around somewhat roughly, not even noticing that he dropped the pillow as he stared at the design on her right shoulder blade. It was a small heart surrounded by a silver circle, with "Draco Malfoy" written in black, old-fashioned script in the center of the heart. In the point of the heart was a small dragon. "Oh, shit," he breathed. He turned her around again, then stepped in front of her with his back to her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Do I have a tattoo?" he asked, belatedly remembering to retrieve the pillow and cover himself in the back.

"What are you on about?" she snapped.

"On my shoulder! Do I have a tattoo?"

"What... oh, my god. _You tattooed my name on your shoulder?!_"

"No," he said distractedly. He went to the bed and sat down heavily, replacing the pillow over his front as he did. "Oh, shit."

"It's just a tattoo," she said, shrugging. "It'll come off; we'll find a spell when we get back."

"No," he said again. "No, it won't come off. Don't you realize what this is?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Hermione... we're married."

"No we most certainly are _not_ married!" she exclaimed, staring at him as if he'd just given birth to a hippogriff.

"Yes, we are," he said, unable to think straight. "We went and got married! How... why..."

"Draco, you've _obviously_ gone mad. We didn't get married, you just have a tattoo. How did that happen, anyway? Why would a tattoo parlor be open in the middle of the night last night?"

"Hermione, don't you recognize—oh, god, you're a Muggle-born... of course you don't recognize..."

"How _dare_ you insult me about being a Muggle-born—"

"I'm not insulting you! Hermione, when wizards get married, the priest casts a spell that gives them tattoos. It symbolizes their marriage."

Hermione froze. "Oh, my god, you're right," she whispered. She had been wandering around with Ginny in Muggle London once, and they'd seen a diamond ring in a jewelry store display window. Hermione had said she wanted a ring just like it when she got married, and Ginny had asked, "Why when you get married?" Ginny hadn't known that Muggles got engagement rings and wedding bands when they got married. Hermione had told her all about it, but they'd changed the subject before she could ask Ginny how wizards got married.

"Oh, god," she repeated.

She fainted.

* * *

Draco rushed to her side, slapping her cheeks and trying to wake her. It didn't work, and Draco decided he should perhaps let her stay unconscious for the time being; oblivion sounded like a good place to be at the moment.

Shaking, he stood up, gathering his clothes and heading off to pee and take a shower, trying not to think but failing. He'd gotten drunk, he'd gotten married, and then apparently he'd consummated the marriage.

He tried his best to remember last night. The party. The argument. They'd made up, she'd told him stories while they'd gotten drunker... then what?

_Flashback_

Draco stared at Hermione as she tilted another glass of whisky to her lips. She was so beautiful, so full of life. She looked at him, smiled at him—really smiled, not the fake smile she usually gave him, but the real one she usually reserved for Harry, Ron, and Ginny, and just about everyone else but him. He found himself leaning in to kiss her.

Her lips were parted, and he darted his tongue between them, massaging her tongue with his own. She tasted like chocolate and liquor, and the combination was more intoxicating than all the alcohol in the world. She kissed him back, surprisingly well, and when he finally pulled away his lips actually tingled.

So did his cheek a second later, as she smacked it, hard, nearly knocking him off his barstool. He stared at her, bringing his hand up to hold the side of his face. "What did you do that for?" he asked sourly; he'd forgotten how hard she could hit. It had, after all, been four years since he'd warranted a slap from her, and she seemed to be improving as the years went by. "You liked it! You kissed me back!"

"I didn't want you to think I was a bad kisser," she said matter-of-factly, as though that made all the sense in the world. Her words slurred slightly. "You didn't have my permission, silly, you can't just kiss someone without their permission." She paused, apparently thinking hard about something. "Draco, can I kiss you?" she asked finally.

He stared at her for a second in disbelief, then said, "I don't know. Will you slap me for it this time?"

She appeared to think again. "Maybe."

Draco decided it was worth it. "Yeah, you can kiss me."

_End Flashback_

He couldn't remember everything... They'd kissed for a while, and then he'd whispered "I love you" to her... She had stood up at some point, asked him to marry her... He'd said okay, he knew a priest who could do the ceremony... They had Apparated to a friend of his mother's house, and the crazy little old man had been so happy for Draco that he drew up the certificate right away, ignoring or perhaps completely missing the fact that Draco and Hermione were utterly trashed... They said their vows... the tattoos glowed brightly on the backs of their shoulders... They'd gotten a hotel room...

Draco flushed as memories of the moment he'd stepped into the room came back. They'd shrugged off their robes immediately, and then Hermione had slammed him against the door and kissed him while she unfastened his pants, then pulled away and ripped his trousers down...

He turned the shower water to cold as he remembered parts of the rest of the night; the thought of it was giving him a strong urge to do it again. She had been the most incredible shag he'd ever had, and he was having a hard time caring about marriage tattoos or things like birth control spells—

"Birth control!" he gasped, realizing suddenly he didn't remember using any. He racked his brains, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. She had gone down on him first thing, and then he had ripped her clothes off, lifted her by the waist and slammed her against the wall... "Shit," he said, hitting the palm of his hand hard against the shower wall. God, if she was pregnant he'd have to _Avada Kedavra_ himself... but one night, what were the odds of that? They weren't nonexistent, but they certainly were slim. Relaxing a little, Draco forced all worries (and sexual images) about last night out of his mind, and concentrated on planning the return trip to Hogwarts.

Eventually, he forced himself to get out of the shower, toweling dry and getting dressed. The button-down shirt he'd been wearing was missing several buttons, and he vaguely remembered Hermione unbuttoning a few of them before grabbing the two halves of his shirt and ripping them apart roughly. Shrugging, he left the shirt open; he knew from experience that he'd need all the buttons on hand to properly cast a _Reparo_ spell. He waved his wand to fix his hair into the spiky style he'd been wearing since his sixth year and grabbed his dress robes, deciding not to bother with wearing them if they were in a Muggle area.

Hermione was awake, sitting at the desk and drinking the red wine from the bottle. She looked over at him, her gaze drawn immediately to the muscles of his chest. He smirked as she stared, then she glanced up and caught his expression. She blushed and her face transformed into a glare. "Could you fix your shirt, please?" she snapped.

"Sorry. _Someone_ popped off half the buttons when they ripped my shirt open last night," he said smoothly.

She grimaced and took another swig from the bottle, nodding at the window. "I think we're on the Mediterranean," she said lightly. "The trees and stuff look really familiar. And I believe I've stayed at that hotel down the beach there, during the holidays a few years back."

"The _Mediterranean_?" Draco repeated in disbelief. "As in the Mediterranean _Sea_?"

Hermione nodded and sighed. "I'd like to say we're in France, but I'm not too sure. I can't remember if that hotel was in France, Italy, or Greece."

Draco frowned and did his best to remember last night. A vision came to him of Draco and Hermione, arms around each other, standing before two sleepy clerks and trying to communicate what they needed. "We're in France," he said finally. "I remember—you spoke French, but not very well, as drunk as you were. Why the hell would we go to France? What were we thinking?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Given what we were doing last night, I'd say we tried to go on a honeymoon."

Draco couldn't help it; he burst out laughing. "But of course, what else?" he gasped through his laughter. "Well, hmm. What do people do on their honeymoon? I know! Do you want to go sightseeing? Or should we shag again? Personally, I vote for option number two."

Hermione glared at him, her fingers twitching as though she longed to strangle him. Then she walked by him without a word, grabbing her clothes and disappearing into the bathroom.

* * *

Hermione didn't come out of the shower for over an hour, her skin scrubbed almost painfully well. She unfortunately hadn't been able to find her underwear, and didn't think she'd have the guts to ask Draco if he'd seen them; she'd have to do without until they made it back to Hogwarts. When she came out of the bathroom, however, she found Draco sitting on the edge of the bed, holding up her favorite black, lacy thong by the waistband and examining it intently. She gaped at him for a moment, and he looked up at her and smirked. "Lose something?" he asked.

"Give them back," she said dangerously.

Draco tucked the panties into his pocket. "Nah, I think I'll keep them. You know, as a reminder of our wedding night. Our first night of passion."

"Our _first_? Try _only_," she snarled. "Give them back, Draco."

"You know, I never figured you for a thong type of girl," he said thoughtfully. "Hmm. Why, I wonder what Harry and Ron would say...?"

"Draco, you give me back my knickers or so help me—"

"Now _there's_ something you don't hear every day."

_"Draco Malfoy!"_

"Come on, love, we are married after all, why shouldn't I keep them—"

"Draco give me them this instant!" she shouted.

"What would you give me?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest with a smug grin and waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

At last remembering she was a witch, she flicked her wrist and grabbed her wand as it shot from its holder. Draco looked remorseful and worried for a second, but instead of cursing him, she shouted _"Accio knickers!"_

Draco grabbed her underwear out of the air before they could reach her. "Attempting to Summon your own knickers, this'll be a story to tell our grandchildren, it will. The first spell you ever cast as my wife—"

"Damn you!" Hermione shouted, stamping her foot. "Fine! Keep the damn things!"

"Why thank you, sweetheart," he said, smiling and shoving the panties back in his pocket. She groaned and rolled her eyes, having expected him to give up once she had stopped making a fuss. "Now. I suppose since we can't Floo to Hogwarts, and we can't Apparate onto the grounds, we'd better Apparate to Hogsmeade and walk up, hmm?"

"Duh," she growled, then sighed. "I am so not looking forward to explaining this to Harry and Ron."

"Um... do we have to explain it to them?" he asked nervously, dreading just such a thing.

"Yes, we do," she said, smiling at him and feeling much better at the look on his face. "Perhaps I'll also mention that you stole my panties, too."

"Nice try, Granger," Draco told her. _Damn,_ she thought irritably. "Let's get going, hmm? They're probably already freaking out as we speak. We should be able to go straight to the path leading up to the castle."

Hermione nodded, then gathered up her courage and Apparated.

* * *

A few seconds after she'd arrived, Draco appeared next to her with a loud cracking noise. "Oh... did we, um, pay for the room?" she wondered, tossing her dress robes onto her shoulder to carry them easier.

"Yes, I remember doing it last night, you had this weird little thing called a credy car," Draco replied. She didn't bother to correct him. "And I called them while you were in the bathroom, told them we were leaving the room and all. Thank god the day clerk spoke English." Hermione started to ask him what else he remembered, then thought better of it—who knew what Draco would say. She, herself, only remembered bits and pieces—kissing at the Ministry, sex in the room. She forced herself not to think about it, and settled for just being glad that she hadn't had to go down to the lobby; she really didn't want to go check out of the room formally.

With every step towards Hogwarts, Hermione felt the urge to flee grow stronger and stronger. Eventually, the front doors came into view, and she felt an icy chill run down her spine when she spotted Harry, Ron, and Ginny running out the doors and dashing across the lawn towards them.

"Oh, help," she whispered to Draco, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Run," he joked, straight-faced. "Just turn and run, and keep running. Don't look back."

"Ha, ha," she said sarcastically. The next instant, Harry, who was fastest, reached them and threw his arms around Hermione, picking her up and swinging her through the air. "Thank God!" he proclaimed, setting her down only to have her yanked away and swept up into Ron's arms.

Ginny, seeing Hermione occupied, ran straight to Draco, hugging him fiercely. Then she smacked him upside the head before pulling away. "Where have you been?!" she yelled in his face as Harry took Hermione back from Ron and bear-hugged her and Draco rubbed his head, cowering before Ginny, who somehow seemed a lot taller and scarier, much like Mrs. Weasley did when angry. "We thought you were dead! We thought you were hurt! We've been scared out of our minds, wondering what happened to you two! Don't you ever do that again!"

Harry, who had started to pull away from Hermione, stopped and stared at her neck. "Hermione? What happened to your neck?" he asked in a strangled voice.

Hermione's hands flew up to slap against both sides of her throat, but not fast enough to prevent Ron and Ginny from seeing that it was covered in hickeys. "Nothing," she squeaked, sending a terror-stricken look at Draco, whose expression mirrored her own.

Three pairs of eyes went to Draco's neck. Though only one hickey marked him, it was still enough. Time seemed to freeze for a second as they all stood still, staring at each other in horror. Then:

"I'LL KILL YOU!" bellowed Ron, lunging at Draco. Before Draco could even take a step back, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny acted; they'd become more and more used to such things in recent years, especially as Ron had grown a lot taller and stronger. Hermione jumped on Ron's back and Harry and Ginny seized his arms, doing everything they could to hold him back. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Ron shouted over and over.

"Ron! Calm down!" Ginny chastised, digging her heels into the lawn.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Ron screamed.

"Ron, stop it!" Harry shouted.

"Don't, Ron!" Hermione shrieked, wrapping her legs around his torso.

Draco gulped and backed away nervously—right into his godfather, Severus Snape.

"What is going on here?" Snape demanded. Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Draco looked up with identical expressions that clearly said "uh-oh." "Weasley, what—"

"Uncle Severus—" Draco began timidly.

"Do not address me so informally at school, Draco," Snape told him coldly. Draco winced. Snape wasn't really his uncle; it was more an affectionate name for him, as he had grown up with Snape being just as close as a relative. Usually, it softened Snape and got Draco out of trouble, and Snape had always let using the nickname slide before. Unfortunately, Snape telling Draco not to use it probably meant he knew Draco hadn't come back to Hogwarts after the Ministry party. "Weasley, what in the name of all that's holy—"

Ron let out another roar, and Snape took a startled step back, then quickly composed himself. "You listen to me, Weasley—" Snape began, but Draco cut him off.

"Professor, it's not what you think," Draco said hurriedly. Snape raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, it's exactly what you think, Ron _is_ trying to kill me, but... um... see... I-accidentally-married-Hermione-last-night," he finished in a rush.

"What was that, Draco?" Snape asked.

Draco took a deep breath. "I accidentally married Hermione last night."

Hermione buried her face in Ron's hair. Ron, Harry, and Ginny went rigid with shock, as did Snape, and then suddenly Ron let loose another bellow and leaped forward, causing Snape and Draco to jump; Harry and Ginny just barely grabbed Ron's arms in time.

"What do you mean, married?" Harry shouted, as he struggled to keep Ron in check.

"Married?" Ginny repeated, staring at him incredulously.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Ron added.

Snape seemed to be at a loss for words. Dozens of emotions played across his face before he finally settled on anger and disgust. "How drunk can you get in one night?" he snapped at Draco. "All five of you, come with me. You'll need to see the Headmaster. Weasley, get a hold of yourself."

It took a few moments, but Ron finally stopped trying to attack. Hermione slid off his back and Harry and Ginny let go—only to have Ron run full-speed at Draco a split-second later.

It is an incredibly frightening thing, to have a Weasley charging at you like a freight train. Especially a six-foot-three, well-built, really really angry Weasley.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" Draco screamed, and took off, dropping his dress robes as he turned towards the castle, running like hell for Dumbledore's office.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Ron roared.

"Ron, stop!" Harry yelled, running after Ron.

"Stupid Weasley temper," Ginny muttered as she followed.

"I'm getting a divorce, honest!" Hermione screamed, scooping up Draco's robes and dashing after Ginny.

"Detention, all of you!" Snape shouted, hurrying off after them.

* * *

Fred and George Weasley climbed the stairs in the entrance hall, on their way to Gryffindor Tower to visit their brother and sister and friends. "Sure is nice to be back here," Fred mused. "I miss it."

"Yeah... but we went out with a blast," George said, reminiscing.

"Ron and Ginny say we're still a Hogwarts legend," Fred said proudly.

"Same old Hogwarts," George said with a chuckle.

Then, quite suddenly, a terrified scream reached their ears and they spun, wands drawn, looking towards the open front doors in alarm. A few seconds later, Draco Malfoy ran in and up the stairs past the twins, yelling his head off, wearing no robes, just trousers and an open dress shirt. "What was that all about?" Fred wondered as the Slytherin disappeared down the corridor.

The answer came in an inarticulate cry of rage. Ron Weasley, their younger brother, ran into the entrance hall, his face, neck and ears an ugly red, his arms over his head, his fingers curved into claws, every bit the picture of some sort of boogeyman. He, too, dashed up the stairs, still howling like a monster with every step.

"Um, ohhhhkaaaaaaaaaay," George said.

"Ron! Come back here! Damn it, Ron!"

They looked back to the entrance hall doors to see Harry, glasses askew, arms pumping madly for speed. "Hey guys," he called to the Weasley twins as he blew past.

Automatically, they turned to the doors again, and sure enough there was Ginny a second later. She paused halfway up the stairs, pecked each of her older brothers a kiss on the cheek, and rushed off. "I'll explain later!" she yelled over her shoulder.

Before she'd made it to the top of the stairs, Hermione entered, with high heels clacking against the marble floor and her long, thick hair flying behind her. "Hold these!" she shouted, tossing two sets of dress robes at the twins and kicking her shoes off in their direction. "Ron! Don't do this!" she shrieked, hurrying after the others in her bare feet.

George examined the dress robes with a puzzled expression as a bewildered Fred bent to pick up the shoes.

"DETENTION!" roared a new voice, and the both of them jumped. Snape rushed in, wand out and black robes billowing around him dramatically. "GET BACK HERE NOW! ALL OF YOU!" Snape hurtled up the stairs, wheezing between threats as he pursued his students.

Fred and George looked at each other. "Yeah, same old Hogwarts," Fred agreed. "What are we waiting for?"

The Weasley twins eagerly chased after them.


	3. Dealing With It

_Author's Notes:_ I'd told myself that I was going to update the third chapter as soon as I got twenty good reviews for this story—I'm up to, um, about fifty-seven, so I thought I'd give all of you who were nice enough to review another chapter. You know, for the first part of this chapter... maybe it's just me, but if I picture the characters actually doing it, it cracks me up every time. 

I'm lowering the rating to PG-13 for now, cuz I don't really think there's anything in the first eight chapters or so that warrants an R rating, but I am going to be moving it later, so if you don't have an account and find this fic after each update via the old-fashioned way, then be forewarned that it'll eventually be moved to the R section.

I'm not sure when chapter four will be up; when I first wrote this fic, it had a few things in it that I no longer like, and a lot of them are in chapter four, so I'm going to have to put some effort into fixing chapter four before it's ready to post. For those of you who are wondering, a new chapter of "Just a Harmless Joke" is on its way in the next few days, and I hope to have "The Prank War" updated by Monday. Still no word on "Private Thoughts" or the two sequels I've promised, though, and I doubt I'm going to get around to writing "Why One Should Never Give an Owl Canary Creams" for a good long while. Summer, maybe then.

This fic is dedicated to Wills, my creative inspiration and a very good friend, who's also an awesome author. Go check out her stories, they're all great; she's called Freyja SilverWillow on this site.

Well, here's chapter three—read it and REVIEW IT!

**Chapter Three**

_Dealing With It_

Professor Minerva McGonagall had just left Dumbledore's office and was almost at the end of the corridor when she was forced to flatten herself against the wall or risk being run over. A screaming, frightened Draco Malfoy ran past, reached the gargoyle blocking the entrance to Dumbledore's office, and started shouting all manner of passwords at it, to no avail. Just as McGonagall started to leave the safety of the wall, she was forced to dive back again. Ron Weasley had appeared, howling like a banshee. With a panicky "Oh, shit!" Draco turned right and began to run along the next corridor.

Harry Potter reached the hallway just in time to see Ron disappear around the far bend to the right. "Ron! Stop!" he shouted, and chased after him.

"Catch him, Harry!" That was Ginny Weasley, gaining on Harry as Harry, too, turned the far corner.

"Leave him alone, Ron!" came Hermione Granger's wail a moment later, running after her friends.

"I'LL MAKE SURE YOU NEVER GRADUATE!" roared none other than Professor Severus Snape, not far behind.

"This is awesome!" yelled George Weasley as he followed, one purple and one black dress robe under his arm.

"Hi Professor!" called Fred Weasley gleefully as he, too, dashed around the corner, carrying a pair of high heels.

McGonagall stared after them in surprise, then smiled and shook her head. She leaned against the wall and waited.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" screamed Draco; he had come full circle and was running past McGonagall again.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!" Ron ran past as well. McGonagall had planned to use her wand to stop him, but hadn't expected Ron to gain on Draco and wasn't ready in time.

"Stop it, Ron!"

"Ron, you idiot!"

"There's no need to kill him!"

"FIFTY POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR!"

"MUAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!"

"This is great!"

McGonagall had a strange vision of the eight of them singing their screamed words to the tune of "The Twelve Days of Christmas." She couldn't help it; she burst out laughing.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"RRRRRAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!"

"Knock it off!"

"I'm going to owl Mum, I swear!"

"Please, Ron!"

"I'LL HAVE YOU EXPELLED!"

"I wish we had a camera!"

"I can't wait 'til we tell Lee!"

McGonagall forced herself to get control and braced herself to stop the bizarre parody of a track meet. She waited again, wand at the ready, then...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!" yelled Draco as he hurtled past.

"RRRRRAAAAAGGG—ugh!"

McGonagall's wand set a jet of silver light at Ron, freezing him to the spot.

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to stop the others.

"Slow down—oof!" Harry collided with Ron.

"You're being a total prat—ow!" So did Ginny.

"Would you listen to me—ouch!" Hermione.

"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU LITTLE BUGGERS—shit!" Snape.

"Uh-oh—pileup! Ack!" George.

"Wipeout! Aah!" Fred.

_Well, at least they've all stopped, however painfully,_ McGonagall thought.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Except for Draco.

"AAAAAHHHH!" Blinded by the last corner, Draco, like the others, didn't see that Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Snape, Fred, and George had all run directly into a frozen-solid Ron. At the last impact the others, who had only barely maintained their footing, toppled like dominos behind Ron, landing in a tangle of arms, legs, and robes, all of them yelling and swearing. It was beyond hysterical, seeing the lot of them crumpled in a heap before her, a shouting mass of arms and legs topped by two dress robes and a pair of high heels.

McGonagall was nearly crying with laughter.

* * *

Draco stared straight at Fawkes, Dumbledore's pet phoenix, doing his best to ignore the incredulous and accusing looks from Harry and Ginny, the confused and curious glances from the Weasley twins, and the tired, disgusted gaze of his godfather, professor, and Head of House. Dumbledore, who had come down right after their painful stop to see what all the commotion was, had sent all of them up to his office after telling Snape to conjure up some chairs and wait while he, McGonagall, and Hermione calmed down Ron. It seemed to be taking an awfully long time, and the stares of the others and the whispers from the portraits on the wall of all the previous headmasters and headmistresses were starting to drive Draco crazy.

Apparently, they were driving Harry crazy too. Harry suddenly jumped to his feet and screamed, "HOW could you MARRY _Hermione_?!"

"You did _what_?" exclaimed Fred and George together.

"I didn't mean to!" Draco protested.

"How do you _accidentally_ marry someone?" Ginny demanded.

"I was drunk, okay?" Draco snapped. "She was too."

"What the hell were you drinking?" George wanted to know, staring at him in awe.

"Did you shag her?" Fred asked with interest.

"Please, do not answer that question, Draco," Snape cut in. "I'm going to have enough nightmares as it is."

"Was it good?" George asked, ignoring Snape. Draco hung his head in his hands, his usually pale face tinged bright red.

"Will you two shut up?" Harry snapped. "Of course he shagged her, you idiots!"

Snape made an involuntary gagging noise.

"I was drunk!" Draco whined. "I was drunk, I barely remember anything!"

"Tell us what you do remember?" Fred begged.

"Please?" George added hopefully.

"I'm in the Twilight Zone," Snape chanted, as though trying to convince himself. "I've gone mad. This isn't really happening."

"It doesn't matter if you were drunk!" Harry snarled, also ignoring Snape.

"I wish I was drunk right now," Ginny said, rubbing her temples.

"That makes two of us," Snape agreed.

"It was a mistake, an accident," Draco insisted. "It shouldn't have happened."

"You're damn right, it shouldn't have happened!" Harry shouted.

"Anyone want a whisky?" Snape asked listlessly. He had conjured a small bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, which Ginny snatched gratefully and took a long gulp from. Snape blinked in surprise and tried to snatch it back, not having expected anyone to hear him, let alone take him seriously.

Fred pried the bottle from her fingers, a bit startled at his baby sister's actions. "Haven't you learned anything about what happens when you get drunk?" he teased, before realizing the implications of his statement.

Ginny glanced at Snape. "Ew!" she shrieked, gagging and clutching her stomach.

"EW!" shouted the rest of the room.

"Give me that!" Snape growled, yanking the bottle away from Fred and starting to chug.

The door opened just then, and Albus Dumbledore's amused eyes swept over the disgusted faces of Harry, Ginny, Draco, Fred, George and the alcohol-guzzling professor. Behind Dumbledore stood a trembling Hermione and a silently fuming Ron, who cast Draco a murderous look but didn't lunge forward again. Dumbledore conjured two new seats for Ron and Hermione as Harry sat back down in his own. Sitting down behind his desk, Dumbledore looked at each of them in turn. "As we are all aware, Draco and Hermione are now Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy."

Every last one of them flinched, and Snape threw his head back as he got closer to the bottom of the bottle and drank faster.

"Not for long, they're not," Harry said heatedly. Now that Ron was under control, he had plenty of time to be angry with Draco himself. Then he frowned and looked at Hermione uncertainly. "Right?" he added.

"Of course we're not staying married, are you mad?!" Hermione exclaimed, looking rather offended. Harry shot her an apologetic look.

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore said slowly, "wizard marriages are not easy to break."

"Oh, no," said Snape, who had paused in his drinking. "This... they... oh, god." He conjured an extra bottle, though already becoming quite drunk.

"What do you mean, they aren't easy to break?" Hermione demanded. The others looked confused, also; Harry and Hermione had grown up among Muggles, and the Weasleys had grown up in a loving family. Only Draco and Snape seemed to know what Dumbledore was talking about; Draco looked stricken and Snape was drinking even faster.

"In order for a witch and wizard to have a marriage dissolved, several things have to happen," Dumbledore explained. "First, they must prove beyond shadow of a doubt that they _both_ wish to break things off."

"We can do that," Hermione said. "Er, no offense, Draco."

"None taken," Draco replied with a shrug.

"Second," Dumbledore continued, "there must be an excess of fighting and disagreements."

The troublemaker in Draco reared its ugly head. "We've already had several arguments, one particularly bad fight already. Perhaps you'd like to tell them about it, Hermione?"

Realization dawned on her and she sent gave the pocket concealing her underwear a panic-stricken glance. "No, thank you," she said through gritted teeth.

"What are you talking about?" Ginny asked suspiciously. The twins were looking back and forth between Hermione and Draco eagerly.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Er... please continue, professor."

"Third," Dumbledore went on, giving her a small smile that gave Draco the sinking feeling he knew exactly what Draco was talking about, "if the wife is with child, the marriage cannot be dissolved for at least one year and one day following the birth of the child.

Six sharp intakes of breath sounded from Harry, Snape, and the four Weasleys, and everyone looked at Hermione. "I am _so_ not pregnant," she said firmly, having cast a few charms on herself in the bathroom at the hotel that morning. "That's for sure." She sent a furious glare at Draco, who gulped and tried to get his heart rate to return to normal.

"Fourth, the couple cannot file for divorce or annulment until one month of marriage has been completed—" there were angry outbursts and startled exclamations at this "—and a court date may take a while to set."

"How long is a while?" Hermione yelped, getting to her feet.

"And that being the case," Dumbledore continued as though she hadn't spoken, "it is best that the husband and wife remain in the residence together, so that grounds for the dissolution of the marriage can be more firmly established."

"WHAT?" Everyone but Snape and Dumbledore was on their feet in a flash, shouting.

"I have to live—"

"No way in hell—"

"You've got to be kidding—"

"If he thinks—"

"I won't let—"

"Give me Voldemort again—"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I am sorry. If the marriage contract is to be broken, this is the only way. The Wizengamot tends to frown on divorces and annulments when a couple has not even tried to make their marriage work."

"Why on earth would we want to try?" Hermione wailed.

They gaped at him. They shouted at him. They begged, they raged, they pointed fingers. Through it all, Dumbledore remained impassive.

Then, he gave them one final piece of legal advice.

"It is also in your best interests," Dumbledore said, choosing his words carefully, "to reside in only one bedroom."

"As in only one bed?" Fred asked, staring at Dumbledore in disbelief.

Silence reigned for a good long while. Then Hermione exploded.

"What do you mean only one bedroom and one bed?!" she shrieked. "I have to... we're supposed to... no!"

Hermione and Draco were stuck with each other.

* * *

There were still two weeks of school left, and school regulations kept Draco and Hermione from having to share a room. Unfortunately, Ron was still incredibly angry with both of them, refusing to speak to Draco and barely speaking to Hermione, though Harry and Ginny stood by them with only the occasional bit of bad jokes and yelling.

Tuesday, two days after the talk in Dumbledore's office, Ginny and Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, chatting and enjoying the time when all of the other students were in class or out on the grounds and the common room was empty. Ron sat nearby, lost in thought and still angry. Ginny, who'd become rather close to Hermione over the years as her only real female friend, had done her best to cheer Hermione up and insist that Ron would get over it.

"So where's Harry, anyway?" Ginny asked, glancing at her watch. Harry had been missing for the past two hours.

"I don't know," Hermione said, frowning slightly. "He got a letter this morning and went running off."

"Who was the letter from?" Ginny said.

"I'm not sure, but it looked pretty official," Hermione said. She turned to Ron tentatively. "Do you know, Ron?"

"No," he said shortly, not looking at her.

Hermione sighed and Ginny rolled her eyes at Ron in irritation. Deciding that Ron's sulkiness had lingered long enough, she opened her mouth to tell him off, but just then the portrait hole opened and Harry jumped through, looking more cheerful than he had in ages.

"You'll never guess what I just found out!" he fairly shouted, dashing over with a sheaf of papers in his hand. "I have a house!"

"Um... what?" Ron said, confused.

"I contacted Sirius's lawyer over the weekend," Harry said in a rush, "and you won't believe what he said."

"What?" Hermione asked, leaning forward. After Sirius's death in the Department of Mysteries, Harry had been approached by Sirius's lawyer, who informed Harry that Sirius's will clearly stated that nearly all of Sirius's assets were to go to Harry (the rest divided between Lupin and Sirius's only other living blood relative, Tonks). Harry had signed some papers, but hadn't really given much thought to what all he'd received, feeling far too unhappy at the time to care about a few more Galleons in the bank.

"Apparently, Sirius bought a house right before he joined the original Order of the Phoenix," Harry said, "a huge house—and it's mine now. It'll need some work, some new appliances and stuff, but it's still livable, given all the enchantments Sirius had placed on it. And his lawyer—friend of his and Dumbledore's who believes Sirius was innocent—thinks that Sirius put some more money into the house after he got out of Azkaban, that he used Lupin to fix it up after twelve years of being abandoned. It's possible that he's right—Lupin had always had a key to it, anyway, them being best friends and all. Anyway, it's _huge,_ and it's empty, and it's mine. I can move in as soon as I leave Hogwarts. _We_ can move in." He paused, a look of doubt settling on his face. "I mean, if you guys want to. I got permission from Dumbledore to go see it this evening; he said we could all go, since we're all old enough to Apparate. I figured, if we all went and saw it, and if you guys like it—"

"Harry, stop the stammering," Ginny ordered.

"Yeah, mate, it's not as if I'm not moving in the first chance I get," Ron added.

"I'm sure Mum will let me come, too; you're like a son to her, and it won't be too weird for her with Ron and Hermione there," Ginny agreed.

"I—" Hermione began, then stopped.

"Hermione," Harry said, correctly guessing her thoughts, "you're one of my best friends, and Draco is still a good friend of mine, regardless of this whole mess. Just because you have to live with him doesn't mean I don't want you living with me."

"_I_ don't want him living with me," Ron snarled.

"I know you're upset, Ron," Harry said diplomatically, cutting off an angry retort from Ginny, "but this really and truly isn't too big of a deal when it comes down to it. They'll get the marriage annulled; they don't even remember what happened, for crying out loud." He sighed. "Let's not ruin our last few days at Hogwarts—and our last summer before we start work—by dwelling on this, please?"

Harry's logic finally seemed to penetrate Ron's fog of rage. The look on Ron's face softened, and he nodded, though he didn't exactly look happy. "You're right, Harry. If he wants to come, I'll deal with it."

"I think Draco should come with us to look at it, you know?" Ginny said, giving Ron a relieved smile. "To see if he likes it, too."

Harry nodded. "Who knows, maybe things will even work out eventually and Draco will stay with us."

Neither Ron nor Hermione looked too pleased about that.

* * *

Draco was down in the Slytherin common room, watching Blaise Zabini throw crumpled-up bits of parchment through the owl entrance above the common room door. "I'm bored," Blaise complained unnecessarily, tossing ball after ball through the owl door and into the hallway. "I almost wish we were still in class."

"Might help if there were any Slytherins left in our year." Only three students, all girls, in seventh year hadn't been killed or incarcerated, and neither Draco nor Blaise cared for any of them.

"Bah! Who needs 'em?" Blaise replied with a snort. "Oh, Drakie-Poo," he said, in a simpering, breathy, rather accurate imitation of Pansy Parkinson. "Puh-lease. Still, if we don't resolve the boredom issue, you may just have to introduce me to Weasley's hot little sister," Blaise said, waggling his eyebrows.

"Trust me, Ron Weasley on the warpath is definitely something you _don't_ want to have to deal with," Draco told him, wincing at the embarrassing memory of being chased all over Hogwarts by an angry Ron.

Blaise laughed. "I'd have given anything to see that, I tell you. Anything! I can just picture Snape chasing after you lot..."

"Yet another miracle I'm still alive," Draco said glumly.

Blaise chuckled and lobbed another wad of parchment at the owl entrance—straight at a beautiful snowy owl, who screeched angrily and banked to avoid it.

"Hedwig!" Draco said in surprise. He had been avoiding Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny ever since Sunday, mostly because of the Ron fiasco, and hadn't heard much from any of his four Gryffindor pals. He sat up as Hedwig landed on his armchair.

"Wow, she's a beaut," Blaise said appreciatively. Hedwig gave him a sort of pleased hoot as she stuck out her leg for Draco. "Is she yours?"

"No, she's Potter's," Draco said distractedly as he took the letter from her leg. Around Blaise, he sometimes still called the Gryffindors by their last names—out of habit, not malice.

"I never thought I'd see the day when Draco Malfoy, biggest bad-ass in Slytherin, started receiving letters from the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die," Blaise remarked, shaking his head in amusement, without any of the usual hatred Slytherins felt for Gryffindors—but then, Blaise had always been rather apathetic about the whole affair: pureblood mania, following Voldemort, killing Muggles and the like. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were under the Imperius Curse. What's Potter want?" Blaise asked, interested.

Draco scanned the note. "He's moving after school lets out, into a house he inherited, and he wants me to check it out with him, see if I'd want to live there too."

"WHAT?" Blaise exclaimed, sitting up straight. "I thought you married Granger, not Potter!"

"Keep your voice down!" Draco hissed, glancing at some fourth-years who were hanging out on the other side of the room. He had told Blaise about his "night of marital bliss," but he'd so far been able to keep the knowledge out of the hands of the rest of the school, though everyone knew about their lovely little sprint through the castle. They'd dodged several students and teachers as they'd raced towards Dumbledore's office, giving the school plenty of gossip.

Draco sighed; the last thing he wanted to do was to be remembered as the husband of the girl he'd grown up calling a Mudblood and a know-it-all (which most of the rest of Slytherin still regarded her as). "Potter's invited Weasley, Granger, and Weasley to move in with him," he explained to Blaise, "and now that I'm going to have to live with Granger, he's inviting me."

"Do you think he would have invited you if you hadn't married her?" Blaise asked.

Trust Blaise to pick up on something that was bothering him. "I don't know. Maybe. He'd only just invited Granger when I shagged her. We're not close yet, not in the way the Golden Trio and Ginny are. It's not one of those friendships where you automatically consider each other roommate candidates."

"You going to do it, though, now he's asked?" Blaise said.

"I don't know. Probably. At least for now, because of Granger." He sighed and stood up, stretching. "They're leaving in a couple of hours; I need to go find some clean Muggle clothes, not sure if I have any. Probably have to use a spell." Draco grimaced; he hated laundering his clothes with cleaning spells. "Do you want me to see if you can come?" Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny had all met Blaise, and found him agreeable enough; they'd hung out together with Blaise a few times, though never without Draco.

"Nah," Blaise said. "I'm applying for a job with Gringotts tomorrow; don't want to be out late."

"Good luck," Draco told him, wondering why Blaise was bothering to find work; the Zabinis were a pureblooded family almost as rich as the Malfoys. But then, Draco was going into Auror training soon, so he certainly couldn't talk.

"Say hello to your old lady for me," Blaise called after him, careful to keep his tone joking enough so that none of the other Slytherins would think Blaise was saying something with merit.

"Ha, ha," Draco called over his shoulder.


	4. Telling the World

_Author's Notes:_ So sorry this took so long to get up! I've been so busy and this was a lot harder to fix than I thought it would be. I'm so glad I finally finished it, though; hope y'all like it. It's not as humorous as the second and third chapters, but there's more of that stuff to come, I promise.

Well, this will probably be my last update until early January. I'm going to try to update from my friends' houses, but I'm going to be moving around Michigan, Ohio, Kentucky and Tennessee from December 18 to January 4 and it'll be difficult to write, let alone post, but I'll do my best. I'm about half-done with the next chapter of "The Prank War," though, and I'm probably going to get a lot of inspiration from seeing my psycho friends and family over the holidays. Still, at the moment, I plan on being offline until at least January 4 or 5. So… catch y'all when I get back. Please review, guys.

**Chapter Four**

_Telling the World_

Draco ran up the stairs to the entrance hall, a few minutes late for his meeting with the four Gryffindors. "Sorry," he panted. "I couldn't find anything to wear; I don't have many Muggle clothes."

Hermione gaped at him; he was wearing the same pants he'd been wearing Saturday night and Sunday morning, and she could see the telltale bulge in his pocket where her panties obviously still were. Draco caught her glance and patted his pocket, winking cheekily at her. She grimaced and looked away; Harry and Ginny noticed the exchange and frowned, but Ron was avoiding looking at Draco and missed the whole thing.

They set off, heading down the path to Hogsmeade and Apparating to Diagon Alley once they'd left the castle grounds. (Ginny, who had only just turned seventeen in March and had only gotten her Apparating license over Easter holidays, looked shaky afterwards, and ended up holding Harry's hand.) After a quick stop at Gringotts to retrieve some gold and have it changed into Muggle money, they cut through the Leaky Cauldron and headed off through Muggle London.

"I talked to Dumbledore as soon as I got the letter from Mr. Fielding—Sirius's lawyer—and he let me use the Floo network to communicate with Fielding directly. He gave me directions, told me a bit about it… it's supposed to be huge, and it's close to Diagon Alley and not far from the Ministry…"

"What does that matter?" Draco asked. "You can Apparate, remember?"

"Well, still," Harry said noncommittally. He pulled out a sheet of parchment with directions written on it. "We go this way." He pointed down a nearby street.

They headed off through London, forcing conversation as they went, which soon developed into light, smooth banter. The five of them had faced a lot together, and they were determined not to let the awkwardness surrounding Draco and Hermione's marriage overpower their friendship. They chattered away as they walked, discussing summer plans and how much they were going to miss Hogwarts; only Ron seemed distant.

Soon they arrived on a street populated mostly by old, large houses made of brick and stone, which were more-or-less well-cared for. "This is the street," Harry said, "down half a block on the north side…"

"Admit it, Potter, we're lost," Draco teased.

"We are not lost," Harry insisted, which he had been repeating off and on for the past half hour. He paused and turned to look around them. "Which way is north?"

"That way," everyone else replied, pointing in four different directions. Harry sighed.

"Mr. Potter?"

They turned to see a short, balding man in Muggle clothes approaching them. "Are you Mr. Fielding?" Harry asked.

"That I am," the man replied, extending his hand, which everyone shook. "Pleasure to finally meet you all, I must say. This way, it's right down here—"

"Ha!" Draco gloated. "I was right! That way's north!"

"Actually, that way's west," Hermione told him smugly. "We're on the north side, walking to the west."

"Afraid she's right," said Mr. Fielding as he led them down the street, stopping in front of a large stone house that looked quite decrepit and had several broken or boarded windows and a black wrought-iron fence surrounding an overgrown lawn. It was easily the most pathetic-looking house on the block. "Well, this is it," he said cheerfully, nodding at the house.

"Well, it's a real fixer-upper," Draco muttered.

Mr. Fielding chuckled. "That's just an illusion spell, actually. Put it up after Sirius got out of Azkaban… because the house mysteriously started fixing itself up, if you get my meaning." He opened the gate and motioned the five of them inside the yard… and suddenly the house transformed into a much larger one, much the way Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place appeared from nowhere, only this time the houses on either side weren't shoved as far apart. The lawn was now well-groomed, and the house was perfectly maintained.

"Wicked," Ron breathed.

"Why on earth didn't Sirius use this place as Headquarters?" Hermione asked, staring up at it in awe. It was positively enormous, and very beautiful.

"The Ministry would have thought of that, I guess," Harry said. "They wouldn't have thought about Grimmauld Place—not sure they even knew about it, really. Sirius was disowned, and he hated his family; no one would have thought he'd go back there."

They went inside, gazing around at the house; for something that had been empty for years, it wasn't the least bit run down. "It looks a lot different than it did sixteen years ago," Mr. Fielding remarked. "Remus must have been putting a lot of work into it. I often wondered if the poor bloke stayed here on occasion—I knew he still had his key and all—but it didn't occur to me that Remus could have been renovating the place for Sirius, not until after the real story about Sirius came out."

Mr. Fielding started pointing out various rooms and giving them a lot of information about the house and its features, sounding like a cross between a real estate broker and a textbook. The house still needed a lot of work and furnishings, but overall, it was incredible. They glanced around the living room before spending a few moments in the kitchen, which led to a lot of questions from Ron, Ginny and Draco—it was full of modern Muggle appliances, few of which the three purebloods had ever seen before. After that, Harry, Ron and Hermione completed a tour of the first floor only to realize that they'd lost Ginny and Draco somewhere; they quickly returned to the kitchen. Sure enough, they found Ginny staring in amazement at the revolving plate in the microwave with the timer set on a half hour, and Draco gazing inside the blender and pressing buttons, laughing as the blades stopped and restarted.

"Guys, check this out!" Draco exclaimed, brandishing the blender at them and consequently yanking the cord out of the wall. He punched a button and then frowned when nothing happened, stabbing at each button in turn in a panic. "Oh, no! I broke the large creepy growling cup!"

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing and Hermione stepped forward to carefully take the blender from him while Harry did his best to explain to Ginny about the negative effects of radioactivity caused by microwaves. "It doesn't make any sense, Harry," Ginny complained as they headed upstairs. "How can a metal box be dangerous? All it does is glow and hum and spin a big plate round and round."

"Is that gigantic white box dangerous, too?" Draco said worriedly. "The one that's really cold inside and big enough to climb in?"

"Please tell me you didn't climb in the refrigerator," Harry said.

"Of course not," Draco said, not meeting Harry's eyes.

They toured the second floor, which was mostly bedrooms and bathrooms, along with a large study filled with empty bookcases that Hermione eyed eagerly, and then Mr. Fielding showed them the attic and basement. "You know," Hermione said, "this doesn't make sense. How does this place have electricity? It's under all sorts of enchantments, and yet magic makes electrical devices go haywire—"

"Wizards can get electricity through the Ministry, actually," Mr. Fielding told her. "Back in the sixties, a Muggle-born who missed some of the Muggle inventions he grew up with came up with a way to run electricity off magic. The process involved is complicated, really, and not many people bother with it, preferring the wizarding way; it's expensive, too. But back when Sirius purchased the house, one could pay a flat fee for it, and Lily Potter convinced him to buy it."

"Dad's been wanting it for years," Ron said. "But Mum says it costs too much."

"I think she's more concerned with all the Muggle things Dad could bring home and blow up if we had ekel-tricity, though," Ginny said.

"Why is it that they never shut the electricity off?" Hermione asked.

"That's not how it works," Mr. Fielding replied. "It's a magic sort of power, so it's not produced; it's magic. Once the spell is cast, it stays cast, and the device purchased from the Ministry that powers the electricity will rejuvenate the spell. You may have to replace that device eventually, but until then—"

"We can have television!" Harry said excitedly.

"We can have actual heat! No more fires!" Hermione exclaimed.

The two of them rambled on about Muggle things they missed for a while before Mr. Fielding cleared his throat. "I must get going, I'm afraid," he said apologetically. "Should I send the papers by owl?"

"Er… yeah. So… so this is all mine, then?" Harry said, staring around in awe.

"Nearly everything of Sirius's is," Mr. Fielding said with a shrug. "You just have to sign a few things, and then I file them with the Ministry, and then they're legally yours. His gold, his house… even that flying motorbike, since Dumbledore was able to get back everything seized by the Ministry."

Harry nodded slowly, a distant haunted looking creeping across his face. Hermione took his hand and squeezed it; he gave her a smile, forcing away his grief about Sirius, for the moment at least. "Our new home," he said, glancing around with a grin. "Let's go celebrate, eh?"

"Sounds good to me," Ginny said. "No where with alcohol, though. You never know what those two might do." She jerked her head and Hermione and Draco, who both glared at her.

"Oh, ha, ha," Draco said, then sighed. "I may never drink again."

"That makes two of us," Hermione growled at him. Her eyes were on his pocket; apparently she hadn't forgotten her lost underwear.

They went to a Muggle restaurant, which had the three purebloods in awe; Coca-Cola and Pepsi products were strictly Muggle inventions and weren't often found in the wizarding world. Draco was fascinated by the bubbles, and Ginny took advantage of the free refills no less than seven times, eventually becoming rather high on the caffeine and sugar.

"So when does Auror training start?" Ginny asked the others, bouncing around in her seat a little from the sugar rush. "You'll be putting in a good word for me, right?"

"I think they already have your name on the 'accepted' list, Gin," Draco told her, sounding proud. "You've defeated several Death Eaters and faced the Dark Lord, not to mention the fact you got ten O.W.L.s."

"Training starts in September," Hermione told her. "I guess this is our last summer of freedom, eh?"

"It's only three years of training," Harry said with a shrug. "It's not much."

"Three years?" Ron repeated. "Is it really? Oh, maybe I should look at Quidditch as a career…"

"And waste those last two years of forcing yourself to take Potions when you didn't have to?" Harry said. "After all of that suffering you better believe I'll be an Auror."

"Uncle Severus can be a pain sometimes, can't he?" Draco said with a smile.

"I just hope we've all done well enough on our N.E.W.T.s," Hermione said worriedly. "The one for Transfiguration—"

"Oh, come off it, Herm, you've probably got the best scores since Dumbledore," Ron interrupted. "When do we get our N.E.W.T. scores, anyway?"

"We've a meeting with our head of house to receive our scores on Friday," Hermione said, exasperated. "Don't you listen to anything, Ron? There's been a meeting schedule posted on McGonagall's door since before we took our N.E.W.T.s."

"I am actually a bit worried," Draco admitted. "I mean, we spent the Friday before the N.E.W.T.s locked in a battle with You-Know-Who, we spent Saturday recuperating, and we spent all day that Sunday celebrating; I don't know if I studied enough."

"I'm sure we did fine," Harry said. "I was too happy to be nervous about it, but I still think I did okay. My potion looked like Hermione's, too," he said proudly.

"Don't scare her," Ginny teased.

"Ha, ha," Harry said, swatting at her playfully. He glanced at his watch. "Wow, it's getting late. We better get going." He signaled the waitress for the check.

"Let me buy, you guys," Draco said as the waitress left the bill; he was very pleased that they were all on speaking terms again, and had been on his best behavior the whole night. He reached for his money purse. "I've got Muggle money on me… help me figure it out…"

Harry and Hermione gave Draco, Ron, and Ginny a crash-course in the usage of Muggle money. They were waiting for the waitress to come back and pick up the money when Harry, who was sitting in between Draco and Ron in the restaurant booth, spotted something black and lacy lying on the seat between him and Draco. He picked up with a confused look on his face and held it up. It took him a second to realize it was a thong, and, when the look on Hermione's face confirmed it was hers, he thrust it at her with a horrified expression not unlike her own.

"Er… how exactly did your knickers end up next to Harry?" Ron asked, confused.

"Um," she mumbled, racking her brains for a good reason. "Well… see…"

"I think the better question," Harry said, with a nasty glance at Draco, "is how they got in Draco's pocket."

There was dead silence. Hermione looked mortified and angry beyond belief. Ginny was looking back and forth between Draco and Hermione with and eager expression, waiting for the details. Both Harry and Ron were glaring furiously at Draco, who now looked quite unhappy with the seating arrangement, which cornered him between Harry and the wall. For a long time, no one dared to move. Finally, Hermione exploded. "WHY couldn't you have just given them back?" Hermione shrieked at Draco.

"You stole her knickers?" Ron asked, his ears red and every freckle on his face visible.

"It was a joke," Draco whined.

"YOU STOLE HER KNICKERS?!" Ron shouted. The entire restaurant turned to stare at them.

"Thanks, Ron, I don't think Charlie heard you in Romania," Hermione moaned as Harry winced, rubbing his ear.

"When did this happen?!" Ginny asked, grabbing Hermione's arm excitedly. "Spill, girl!"

"Last Sunday," Hermione snapped. "He found them and wouldn't give them back."

"YOU'VE HAD HER KNICKERS IN YOUR POCKET SINCE SUNDAY?!" Ron yelled.

"I didn't… I just… she… well…"

"Why the hell have you been carrying them around?" Harry demanded. "What, were you going to have them framed? Bronzed? Turned into a paperweight for display on the coffee table?"

"I couldn't find any other pants!" Draco insisted. "I'd forgotten about them, damn it, it was just a harmless joke!"

"Harmless joke!?" Hermione repeated angrily. "STEALING MY KNICKERS AND GIVING THEM TO HARRY IS NOT A HARMLESS JOKE!"

Ginny burst out laughing. "Oh, this is priceless. Draco… your underwear… oh my god!"

The corners of Ron's mouth twitched. Harry let out a chuckle. The three of them took one look at Hermione's utterly furious expression and they were positively howling with laughter.

* * *

Surprisingly, after the underwear incident, even Ron was perfectly nice to Draco again. The tension about Draco's marriage to Hermione was broken, and the five of them spent almost every second of their last few days at Hogwarts together, playing Quidditch, shopping for furniture for the house, and visiting Hagrid; eventually Draco and sometimes even Blaise Zabini came over to the Gryffindor table during meals. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Draco discovered on that Friday they had gotten exceptionally good N.E.W.T. scores, which had them all positively glowing. Their spirits remained high until planning for their graduation ceremony began.

For Hermione was now a Malfoy.

"What do you mean, my name is automatically changed when I get married?!" Hermione shouted at Snape after he told her during their afternoon practice for the ceremony. Snape gave her a cold glare in response.

"I realize there is not much I can do to you in the way of points and detentions now that you're graduating," Snape told her with an edge in his voice, "but I'm afraid there are consequences to marrying Mr. Malfoy just the same."

"You did what?!" shrieked a voice in Hermione's ear. Hermione turned, filled with dread at the sight of Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, standing behind her with identical shocked expressions. "You're kidding!" Parvati exclaimed.

"When did this happen?" Lavender demanded. "HOW did this happen?"

"Well, he's hot, I'll give you that," Parvati continued, at which point Snape walked away in disgust, "but he's a _Slytherin_! I know you've been friends for a while, but—married?!"

Ginny hurried over to rescue her, dragging her away from the other two girls. "It'll be okay, Herm," she said soothingly.

"Why? Why did _they_ have to find out? They'll be telling the world before I can get into full panic mode!"

"They would've found out anyway when your name was announced," Ginny pointed out practically, but Hermione just moaned and buried her face in her hands. Ginny tried to take her mind off of it by adjusting Hermione's Head Girl sash and badge and trying to get Hermione to rehearse her speech.

By dinnertime two hours later, the entire school was gossiping about Hermione and Draco. Students flocked over to both of them in droves to ask if it was true. Harry, Ron, and Ginny did their best to keep the curious students at bay, and Blaise Zabini did what he could to both keep people from questioning Draco and keep Draco from cursing the questioners.

Draco and Blaise both sat at the Gryffindor table that evening at dinner, but students from all houses kept coming over to ask all sorts of uncomfortable things.

"Why would you marry a Mudblood?" asked Malcolm Baddock, a Slytherin fourth-year.

"Why would you marry a Gryffindor?" Graham Pritchard, another fourth-year Slytherin, wanted to know.

"Why would you get married at all?" asked Kevin Whitby, a Hufflepuff, with a disdainful glance at the two Slytherin boys.

Hermione was faring no better. "Have you gone on a honeymoon?" asked Hannah Abbot dreamily.

"That house you said you and Harry, Ron, Ginny and Malfoy are going to be living in—it's really yours and Malfoy's, isn't it?" Luna Lovegood exclaimed.

"How is he?" asked Parvati conspiratorially. "You know, in the sack?"

Hermione began to make not-entirely-faked retching noises. As Ginny patted her on the back in concern and Harry and Ron started coughing loudly, Draco apparently decided he'd had enough.

"What are you doing?" hissed Hermione as Draco climbed on top of the Gryffindor table and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Listen up!" he shouted, as even the teachers looked up at him in curiosity and surprise. "It's true, okay? As of last Saturday I am married to Hermione Granger, Head Girl of Hogwarts! Yes, she is Muggle-born, and yes, she is a Gryffindor, and yes, I am a Slytherin, and yes, I am a pureblood! It is probably the most bizarre thing you've ever heard of and ever will hear of, but we're married and we're sick of your stupid questions! I'm not telling you why, I'm not telling you how many kids I plan on having, I'm not telling you how good she is in bed, I'm not telling you her bra size—"

"DRACO MALFOY!" Hermione shouted.

"I'm not telling you about our honeymoon and I'm not telling you a damned thing! The next person who asks me—or my wife—or my friends—anything about it will meet the same fate as Voldie, do you understand me?" He drew his wand and held it above his head for emphasis. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!" he shouted again, with a rather crazed look on his face.

Several people nodded emphatically, and anyone from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin practically ran back to their seats. Draco remained standing on the table with his hand thrust in the air as they left, and it was only when Snape started to stand up from the staff table and Hermione snapped "Are you done?" that he blinked, came back to reality, and jumped down, stuffing his wand in his robe pocket.  
"Who asked you her bra size? Do you know it?" Blaise asked curiously. With a sigh, Draco began to beat his head against the table.

* * *

Over a thousand people came to the graduation ceremony, not including all of the other Hogwarts students. Hermione watched the Quidditch stands, magically lowered to the grounds, fill with people with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"Hermione!" Fred called, as he and George made their way over to her; she was loitering behind the stands with the rest of the seventh years, awaiting their entrance. Fred was carrying a small box wrapped in red paper with a gold bow, which he handed to her with a flourish. "This is for you," Fred told her.

Mildly surprised, she thanked them and unwrapped it to reveal a Muggle toaster. "What on earth…?" she began, staring at them.

"We overheard some Muggle at the mall say they make great wedding presents," George said with a mischievous grin.

"Ha, ha," she said sarcastically, glaring at them balefully.

"It's our way of letting you know we're not sore you didn't invite us to the ceremony," Fred said, straight-faced.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped.

"Happy graduation," Fred told her with a laugh. "You _will_ name your first born after us?"

"I'm not naming my child 'Irritating,'" Hermione told them with a sniff.

"I knew it! She _is_ pregnant!" George teased, patting her belly. "Hi, there, little George!"

Parvati and Lavender caught sight of the action. "Oh my god!" Parvati shrieked, grabbing Lavender's hand and dragging her towards a group of seventh-year Ravenclaws.

"He was joking!" Hermione shouted after them. She glowered at the twins. "Damn it, you two, go away!"

Fred and George laughed as they obliged, waving cheekily at her as they left. Ginny came up and squeezed her hand. "Don't worry, okay? I have to go, Mum's saving me a seat—"

"Oh, god, Mrs. Weasley! Does she know?" Hermione asked.

"Um, not yet, no," Ginny said uncomfortably. Realizing the need to change the subject, she cast about for something to say and her eyes landed on the toaster. "Um, do you want me to hold your… what is that, anyway?"

Hermione thrust the toaster at her wordlessly. "I'm doomed," she whispered. "Oh, god."

Draco appeared at her side a moment later. "My mum's here," he said, sounding horror-struck and quite irked, as though his mother had no business turning up at his graduation. "I haven't told her yet… what now?"

Hermione felt a pang at the memory of her own parents, which didn't lessen in the slightest when she pictured their reaction to the news that she was married. Even though she knew how disappointed they would be in her after hearing about the circumstances surrounding her marriage, she still would give anything to have them there on her graduation day. On her last day at Hogwarts.

Hermione looked up at the Quidditch goalposts, towering above them. Memory after memory of Hogwarts was assaulting her, hitting her hard. The first major part of her life was now over… and a new one was beginning, one she knew nothing about. "What now?" indeed.

"That's a good question," she muttered.


	5. An Unpredictable Ending

_Author's Notes:_ No, this isn't a mirage; I'm actually updating this story. Now, I can't promise this'll happen again anytime soon, or ever, but I don't want to abandon this fic and I'm hoping, praying I can make it work. I do know I probably won't have time for much for "We Woke Up Married" over the next few months, but I'll try. Thank you to all of you who've reviewed, whether patiently or with death threats. I appreciate it. I'll try not to continue to disappoint.

Now, this is the rest of graduation. I am aware that graduation is an American concept, not British, but I liked it and wanted to use it, and after all this is the wizarding community, so they can have a ceremony if they want. Or rather if I want. By the way, the chapter title does NOT mean this is the last chapter. This isn't the end of the story, whether I update it again or not.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

_An Unpredictable Ending_

"Oh, look, there's Ron!" Mrs. Weasley said tearfully. "I'm so proud of him, and a Prefect besides! Oh, and there's Hermione next to him… and there's Harry… what's that you've got, Ginny?"

"Mum, there's, uh, there's something I need to tell you," Ginny said tentatively, setting the toaster down. Fred and George smirked, and Ginny turned to glare at them.

At that moment, however, Bill, Charlie, and Percy walked up to the stands with Remus Lupin. Mrs. Weasley made a great deal of fussing over them, especially Percy, whom she was pleased to be back on speaking terms with. Mr. Weasley was a little awkward around him, but Mrs. Weasley was prone to acting as though nothing had happened.

A little stage had been set up at one end of the Quidditch pitch, upon which sat Dumbledore, the teachers, and all the seventh-year Prefects—Ron, Hermione, Draco, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil. Dumbledore and the four Heads of the Houses—McGonagall (who looked a bit misty-eyed and sounded choked up), Snape (who looked like he'd rather be out celebrating the fact that Harry and the others were finally gone), Sprout, and Flitwick—gave speeches (Snape's consisted of about three sentences) before Dumbledore introduced the Head Boy, Anthony Goldstein, a Ravenclaw. Anthony cast the _Sonorous_ charm on himself and Ginny did her best to find her Gryffindor courage and tell her mother about Hermione before Anthony's speech ended. She failed miserably.

"And now," Albus Dumbledore said, "a few words from our Head Girl, Hermione Malfoy!"

There was an outbreak of confused muttering. Dumbledore smiled benignly as Hermione shakily got up to her feet and made her way to the front of the stage.

"He got Hermione's name wrong," Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head.

"That's not like Dumbledore," Lupin said, frowning.

"Nope, not like Dumbledore at all," Fred agreed, feigning innocence.

"Not at all. Must be having a really rough day," George added.

"Poor Dumbledore," Fred said.

"I'm sure Hermione will correct him," Charlie said. "Though if it was me, I'd be offended."

Fred and George snickered. "Trust me, Charlie," Fred said, "I'm sure she's horribly offended." Glaring at them, Ginny flicked her wand. The twins simultaneously bit their tongues, hard.

Hermione pointed her wand at her throat and whispered "_Sonorous_." Her voice carried out over the stands with a somewhat nervous ring to it. Hermione had either forgotten her speech or else decided to throw it out the window.

"When I was eleven years old, I was accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A lot's changed since then. I'm still bossy and fanatical about success, but since that first day on the train I've saved the Sorcerer's Stone from the clutches of Voldemort, was half turned into a cat, got petrified by a basilisk, befriended a man who was framed for murder, helped the Boy-Who-Lived and my very good friend Harry Potter win the Triwizard Tournament, battled a few Death Eaters, assisted in the defeat of the most terrible dark wizard of our time, tried to liberate some house elves, became synonymous with the library and graced the hospital wing with my presence far too many times for my liking."

"She's not correcting Dumbledore," Bill noted. "Why isn't she correcting him?"

"Maybe she's not as offended as one might think," Charlie joked.

"Even Malfoy's not moving, though. See? He's just sitting there," Bill pointed out.

"Hermione is Head Girl," Percy said with a sniff. "She's probably just reluctant to cause a scene by correcting the headmaster in front of all these people."

"When has Hermione ever been reluctant about correcting anyone about anything?" Bill argued.

Ginny cringed, not looking forward to the coming explanation. "Um, can we listen to her speech, please?" The Weasleys and Lupin fell silent. Ginny scanned the stadium for Mrs. Malfoy, and groaned when she saw her. Narcissa Malfoy looked livid; Ginny could only pray that she was just upset that neither Draco nor Hermione was protesting the use of a pureblood's surname for a Muggle-born.

"I love Hogwarts, and I'm going to miss every last one of you. _Maybe_ even you, Professor Snape," Hermione added, prompting a few laughs from the crowd and a scowl from Snape. "To those of you who shall remain here for another year or more, I hope you have as much fun as I did, if a few less… 'adventures.' The library is your greatest asset, remember to grin when you see the remnants of Fred and George Weasley's portable swamp, homework _is_ important, stay out of the Forbidden Forest if you know what's good for you, and don't be afraid of Professor Snape, he's all talk." More laughs echoed around the stands and Snape made to get up, reaching for his wand and muttering something that sounded like "I'll show you 'all talk,'" but McGonagall placed a hand on his arm as she chuckled through her tears. "Thank you for the best years of my life," Hermione added, and sat back down to wild applause and whispers.

"Huh. No one said a thing," Charlie said, frowning. "You'd think someone would have mentioned that. I know the Slytherins would be furious that the headmaster called a Muggle-born girl by a pureblood's family name…"

"I can't believe Hermione didn't say anything," Bill agreed. "I mean, I know Harry, Ron and Hermione are all friendly with Malfoy now, but have you seen the two of them together? She still can't stand Malfoy. Hasn't forgiven him. She always was one to hold a grudge."

"You know," Percy said quietly, "I know this is probably quite… insane… but… I _thought_ I saw them kissing at the Ministry's celebration." Bill, Charlie, Lupin and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stared at him in shock. "I was going to say something, but I thought I must be mistaken, that there was no way _they'd_ be kissing. But, then, I don't know them nearly as well as I once did…"

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to sink into the stands, willed lightning to strike Padma Patil as she gave her speech just so that there'd be something else for her family to focus on, willed the gods to send a distraction, any distraction, before they all remembered that Ginny was Hermione's best female friend…

"All right," Billy said loudly. "What are you hiding?"

Ginny's eyes snapped open, but her family wasn't gazing at her—they were staring suspiciously at Fred and George, who were trying a little too hard to look innocent.

"We don't know anything!" Fred insisted.

"Yeah, we haven't talked to them in ages!" George added.

"Ask Ginny!" Fred yelled.

_Thank you,_ Ginny told the gods. By the time her family turned to look at her, her expression was a flawless mask of confusion and innocence. "Me? You're the ones who gave Hermione a toaster and were asking her to name her firstborn after you earlier!"

Fred and George glowered at her as the group refocused their attention on the twins. "Fine," Fred ground out. "You want to know the truth? From what we understand, Hermione and Malfoy accidentally got hitched."

"They got drunk and woke up in a hotel room together," George continued. Ginny cringed. Letting the twins tell the story might not have been the best move.

"Fred! George! I won't have any more of that nonsense coming out of your mouth!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, scandalized.

"It's true! We were visiting Hogwarts when the came home," Fred insisted. "We were just going up the stairs in the entrance hall when Malfoy ran by screaming, with Ron chasing him like a nut and Harry, Ginny and Hermione trying to stop Ron and Snape trying to catch them all and we joined the chase."

"To make a long story short, we all ended up in Dumbledore's office," George continued. "He told them that they'd have to stay married for at least a month and meet all these requirements and after they left the room Dumbledore even said that with all the Death Eater trials it'll probably take ages to get a court date."

"It _will?"_ Ginny asked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know, maybe so that we could trip you up when you tried to lie to Mum and make believe you had no idea what was going on," Fred shot back.

Mrs. Weasley turned to glare at Ginny. "Is that true?"

Mr. Weasley and Lupin exchanged glances, while Bill, Charlie and Percy looked to Ginny, all three of them sporting revolted expressions. "Yeah, is that true?" Charlie demanded.

Ginny sighed. "Yes. None of us knew what to say. Hermione was so embarrassed, and she didn't want you to be ashamed of her…"

Mrs. Weasley's face softened. "That poor dear. No family of her own and a mess like this, on top of all that trouble with You-Know-Who…"

"Plus Dumbledore called her 'Hermione Malfoy' at her own graduation," Bill said with a snicker.

"Oh, look—Ron's about to give his speech," Ginny said. Padma, Hannah and Ernie had already finished their speeches; Ron and Draco were the only ones left. The Weasley family and Lupin returned to watching the ceremony.

Ron swaggered up to the front of the stage. "HOGWARTS RULES!" he shouted, thrusting both fists in the air.

"YEAH!" shouted the seventh years, and most of the spectators started cheering. Ron stayed on the stage for a little while longer, arms held high, before retreating and sitting back down next to Draco, who shook his head and clapped Ron on the back.

Ginny thought she saw Draco's wand hand shaking as he cast the _Sonorous_ charm. "Seven great years at Hogwarts," Draco said, smiling faintly. "Can't ask for better, crazier days than those spent at Hogwarts—least, I hope not," he joked. "I'm grateful for Hogwarts and all it's done for me. Every disaster, every curse, every detention—it was all worth it."

Draco sighed, then chuckled. Then he simply turned and walked back to his chair, shaking his head as if wondering what could go wrong next.

Applause followed Draco's speech, and then McGonagall began to call names for students to receive their diplomas. Fred, George and Ginny cheered for their fellow Gryffindors and their old friends while Bill, Charlie and Percy joked about their own times at Hogwarts and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin whispered to each other, frowning, probably discussing Hermione. Ginny winced when McGonagall went from Anthony Goldstein to Daphne Greengrass, when Hermione would have ordinarily come in between them—at least, now that Goyle was dead. Ginny felt a slight pang at the realization that she was completely unsurprised to see the missing students in the line; though she wasn't sorry they had met justice, she was sorry that the war had happened in the first place.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

Ginny leaped to her feet and screamed Neville's name. The twins followed suit. Neville jumped, startled at the attention; Ginny saw Neville's grandmother look up at the cheering Weasleys, surprised at their enthusiasm but pleased.

"MacDougal, Morag!"

Ginny sat back down, grimacing at Morag, who'd always been extremely rude to her and tried to make her leave the Ravenclaw table every time she'd joined Michael Corner for lunch. She cheered for Ernie Macmillan, who went next, then stood up and screamed again for Draco—and was the only person in the section of the Gryffindor stands to do so, though the Gryffindors did applaud much more loudly than they had for any previous Slytherin.

Then, of course, it was Hermione's turn.

"Malfoy, Hermione!"

Everyone in the stands, save a handful of Slytherins and those incapable of doing so, leaped to their feet and cheered hysterically, the Weasleys among the loudest. Hermione grinned up at them, and Fred and George shot red and gold sparks out of their wands until Mrs. Weasley ordered them to stop, but by then, several others were following her example. One didn't defeat Voldemort without a standing ovation being in order. Flashbulbs from hundreds of cameras went off.

Ginny sat back down, waiting for Harry's name to be called and feeling sorry for the poor kid to follow Hermione—Ginny couldn't even hear their first name in the commotion, and she wasn't even sure she heard the last name of "Moon" correctly. Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson were skipped, naturally, and Ginny was just preparing to clap for Padma Patil when someone next to her said, "You. Weasley girl."

Ginny looked up, startled, to see Narcissa Malfoy standing next to her, wearing a set of gorgeous dark-green dress robes and a silver shawl that probably cost enough to buy the Burrow several times over, her eyes narrowed. "Oh. Um, hi."

Ginny was at a loss. She didn't know much about Narcissa at all; Draco had never mentioned her much. Ginny didn't even know if she was a big supporter of Voldemort or not; while she was Bellatrix Lestrange's sister, she was also Andromeda Tonks's sister.

"Tell me," Narcissa said, in a sharp, icy tone, "why, precisely, is that Granger girl being addressed as a Malfoy?"

"Um, that's not for me to say," Ginny said carefully.

"In case you haven't noticed," Narcissa interrupted, "I happen to be a Malfoy, and I believe I have a right to know what messes my only son and heir has created."

Ginny glared at her. Her upbringing wouldn't allow her to be openly rude to an elder, particularly not in front of her mother, without said elder doing something severe to earn disrespect, but Ginny was liking this woman less and less. "Ma'am, Draco owes you an explanation, not me. I won't betray his confidence; he is my friend. I am certain he will be willing to explain things himself when—"

"Potter, Harry!"

Narcissa Malfoy was forgotten as, once again, almost the entire stadium leaped to its feet and screamed hysterically. Red and gold sparks shot up all around the stadium and the cheering seemed to go on for hours. Harry smiled sheepishly, pushing his glasses up his nose, then wincing as camera after camera flashed, making him look as if he was in the middle of a lightning storm. Harry slowly and carefully left the stage, determined not to fall on his butt in front of so many people but now unable to see with his eyes open.

"Yes, well done, Potter," Narcissa said coolly, not with malice but not with admiration, simply with respect. She turned back to Ginny as McGonagall waited impatiently for enough of the applause to die down. "I suppose you do have a point about it being Draco's right to explain himself. I admire your loyalty to him, and I won't forget it in the future."

"Er, thanks," Ginny said uncertainly. Narcissa began to make her way back through the stands. Ginny clapped absently for Dean Thomas as she left, surprised to note that when she passed Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks, Tonks stood up, screwed up her face, and turned her pink hair into a long mane of blond hair as pale as Narcissa's. Narcissa appeared startled, but she smiled quickly and exchanged a few words with Tonks, then gave her a brief hug.

"Weird," Ginny remarked. "Mrs. Malfoy and Tonks, being all friendly like that."

"Well, Narcissa _is_ her aunt," Lupin pointed out. "Even after Andromeda, Tonks's mother, was disowned, Narcissa remained close with her. Tonks has several fond childhood memories of her. But, then, Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy, and that was the end of her involvement with Andromeda and Tonks."

"Huh. Weird," Ginny said.

"Question," Fred said, "how come they're not sitting with us?"

"The Malfoys?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Tonks and Kingsley."

"Oh, well, it's hard to get seats all together," Mr. Weasley said vaguely.

Ginny frowned, then glanced suspiciously around the stadium. Sure enough, members of the Order of the Phoenix were scattered about the stadium. Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle had been given the unfortunate job of sitting with the Slytherins, though Ginny wasn't sure if that was because they were former Slytherins or if they were just less recognizable than other members of the Order. Ginny spotted Elphias Doge over in the Ravenclaw stands, sitting next to the bartender from the Hog's Head and Madam Rosmerta. She found Mad-Eye Moody in the Hufflepuff stands, in addition to a couple of Charlie's friends and Oliver Wood. While she hadn't known Charlie's friends well at all, she knew Oliver wouldn't forego sitting in the Gryffindor section for any reason whatsoever; his stint as Quidditch captain had made him incredibly proud of his own house. There seemed to be Order members scattered everywhere—Ginny recognized a good-looking guy and a witch with an eye patch in the Ravenclaw stands as Aurors, a couple of her parents' old friends in Slytherin…

"For crying out loud," Ginny muttered. "Why does no one bother to tell us these things?"

"Weasley, Ron!"

Ginny joined her family and fellow Gryffindors in the cheering, but she was utterly distracted by her realization that the Order was still watching Harry, Ron and Hermione, still thought they were in danger. It did make sense, she had to admit—surely they hadn't caught every supporter of Voldemort on the planet. Yet she wished that for once, someone would have bothered to confide in them, and in her.

Ron's applause lasted nearly as long as Harry's. When it was over, only Blaise Zabini was left; once again, Ginny was the only one in the Gryffindor stands to stand and cheer for him, though she wasn't as loud about it. She'd only met Blaise a few times, and he'd seemed okay, but he wasn't exactly a friend.

When the students had all returned to their seats, Dumbledore returned to the podium. "And now, I present to you, Hogwarts's newest class of witches and wizards!"

Once again, a cheer went up, and the assembled students waved their wands through the air, summoning glimmering animals called Spirit Shadows, much like Patronuses although color-coded to match their house and more for show than for any actual purpose. Ginny smiled when she saw Harry's stag, Ron's dog, and Hermione's otter converge in the sky above the other students' animals.

The ceremony was now officially over; Ginny stood up, and made her way down to the field with the rest of those who'd come to say goodbye to Hogwarts's most recent graduating class. Ginny managed to slip away from her family members in the throng as she darted through the crowd, trying to get to Harry, Ron and Hermione before Mrs. Weasley could.

Hermione, however, was separated from Harry and Ron, as she had been seated on the stage and they'd been on the field. Harry and Ron were currently grinning mischievously and watching Narcissa Malfoy berate Draco.

"Mum, it was an accident," Draco insisted.

Narcissa glared at him. "You just ACCIDENTALLY said 'I do' to a Gryffindor? Is THIS why you're moving out?"

"No… well, yes, sort of… Mum, she's just a friend!"

"You don't MARRY your friends, Draco!"

"I know that!"

"Apparently not! I thought you had more sense than this, Draco, _really,_ getting married and not even bothering to send your poor mother an owl—"

Harry shook his head as he and Ron turned away Draco. "That'll teach him," Ron said, smiling. "Or, well, something like that."

Ginny tugged on Harry's sleeve. "We should get to Hermione. Mum knows."

Harry groaned. "Ugh. The reporters are over by the stage."

"Not to mention Mum," Ron said, pointing. The rest of the Weasley family was climbing up on the stage.

Harry shook his head and started towards them. "Did you think this was how it would go, Ron?"

"How what would go? Our graduation ceremony?"

"Our last day at Hogwarts."

Ron chuckled. "Well, no, not exactly. But then, there's no predicting anything around here, is there?"

"Definitely not, Ron. Definitely not."


End file.
